


Beautifully Tragic

by bloodstainedgold (cisquexlily)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, I mean I wrote this as gay, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, It's Up For Debate, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha cursing at people in Russian, No pronouns are used, but it could be straight, or a good girlfriend, the reader could be any gender, youre welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cisquexlily/pseuds/bloodstainedgold
Summary: You weren’t one to accept help from others, but sometimes the world beats you down until it’s your only choice – but not a bad one.





	Beautifully Tragic

 

               A light hiss escaped from between your teeth when the alcohol-soaked cotton ball touched the scrape on your forehead. As Natasha dabbed at the cut, your injured hands wouldn’t stop moving out of nerves in your lap. She hadn’t said a word since she let you into her apartment and sat you down at the kitchen counter, and considering your current state her lack of response was… concerning, to say the least. Natasha was not an easily readable woman – you had no inkling towards her thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to decipher her expression. She pressed gauze on the wound, and lightly taped it down.

               “I’m going to kill him,” She said casually as if she had stated that they were out of milk.

               “Nat, no,” Your voice sounded, no, _felt_ weak. Your mouth barely moved and your voice couldn’t have been above a whisper. Your energy level was rapidly declining; you didn’t especially want to oppose her.

               Her hair swung lightly when she shook her head. “You’re not going to change my mind, Y/N.” She took one of your hands in hers and held it lightly for a moment – almost a comforting gesture – before she started to disinfect the scratches that covered the both of your hands.

               You sighed. “I appreciate the gesture, but murder is definitely illegal. As much as the idea may appeal to me right now, please don’t.”

               She dropped the bloody cotton ball with the growing pile on the ground and gently held your hands in hers. Your fingers still fidgeted under her touch. “Y/N, honey, you need to understand that what that piece of _der'mo_ –“

               “Language,” You admonished, albeit half-heartedly.

               “–did to you isn’t as small as you want to make it out to be. You can’t just let him get away with it.”

               “Nat–“

               “No,” She leaned forward and just barely gripped your hands tighter for emphasis. “Dammit, Y/N, if I went out there and shot that _mudak_ in the head right now I can guarantee you that Tony would find me a way out of it once he heard why. This isn’t a slight disagreement that happened one too many times, that son of a bitch dared to lay a hand on you, he threw a _fucking vase_ at–“

               Her voice faltered when you visibly flinched at her words. She let go of your hands and stood, making to refill the glass of water she had given you earlier.

               “Sorry.”

               You made a noise of reluctant disagreement. “Don’t be. You’re right.”

               “Oh? So I can shoot him now?” Natasha’s face held as much humour as it could in such a situation, wanting to lighten you up.

               You ignored her, face sullen. “I can’t go back there, Tasha. Would you– Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

               “Of course, honey, I wouldn’t let you go back. Stay as long as you want to.” She had gained an earnestness that you rarely witnessed, but you didn’t appreciate it any less.

               You nodded and stood from the chair at the breakfast table and walked to the other side of it, standing opposite Natasha. You stepped forward into a hug, resting your head on her shoulder and smiling when her arms wrapped around you. Your own arms lingered as you made to break the embrace, fingertips subtly tracing a curve from her shoulder blades to her waist.

               “Thank you. You’re a wonderful friend.”

Her gentle grin made your stomach flip. Perhaps friend wasn’t a fitting term.


End file.
